Magic
by girliedragon
Summary: Not a strong R by any means, but better safe than sorry. Fairly cliche, all things considered. The title is mostly pointless.
1. Default Chapter

I know, I should spend my time on actually finishing some of the snippets I posted recently rather than work on mostly stream-of-consciousness poorly-planned ficlets. Shut up.

* * *

He's in a bar. Muggle bar. He doesn't do much of that magic stuff anymore socially. Wizards and witches are, in general, damned annoying and they never shut up about the Fantastic Mr. Potter. 

Mr. Malfoy? Who? Wasn't he a Death Eater?

Well, yes, but we all make mistakes. Being born, for instance.

This broody-introvert thing doesn't suit him much, and he decides to meet a pretty witch - girl. He's a bit sloshed, but fully functional and still gorgeous as all hell despite donning a disguise. Namely, spelling his hair black.

"Heeey baby, I'm a wizard. Wanna see my wand?"

Ok, perhaps he's a bit more shit-faced than he'd anticipated. The girl in question is blurring in and out of his vision. She seems pretty...she's dark-haired, petite, and curvy. And she's ignoring him.

Nobody ignores Draco Malfoy. He scoots closer, invading her personal space and grinning wickedly as he purrs, "C'mon...give a guy a break. I'll show you some magic like you've never seen before."

"I highly doubt that," she says. Bit of a cold fish, but Draco Malfoy can warm anyone up. Muahahaha.

"Did you just say 'muahahaha'?"

"Um. What if I did?"

"Look kid, you're cute but obviously stupid. And drunk. Get out of my face so I can go back to being a broody introvert."

What's wrong with that sentence?

"Inprimis, I'm twenty-two. If I'm any judge you're hardly older."

"Inprimis? What century are you from, anyway?"

"That brings me to my second point. While I concede that I am absolutely pissed right now, I am still the most intelligent guy you'll ever meet."

She gives him a long look. "Whatever."

"No, really. I can find intervals of convergence in my head."

"Negative one to the k times half x to the k, sum zero to infinity."

"Give me a hard one. Plus and minus two."

"All right. My place or yours?"

Professor Vector was right! Arithmancy did help you pick up girls! Well, he hadn't actually said that. Just sort of implied it.

"Um. Yours would be better. Mine's kind of far."

Her apartment is just a block or two away. They get inside and he starts kissing her, but she stops him. Which is a first for him, and he doesn't like it.

"I don't sleep with strangers."

"Then what the fuck did you bring me here for?"

"Chill. What's your name?"

He's not going to give her his real name, especially if he's not going to get laid.

"Rick. You?"

"You can call me Lisa."

"No, I don't think I will." Lisa Turpin. His first crush, and the first and last girl he was actually interested in who turned him down.

"I'll call you Helen."

"You can't just rename me like that!"

"Can and did, doll. Anyway, I don't think Lisa's your real name."

"You got me there. All right, then I'll call you Dante."

"Dante? Okay, I can live with that. Want a taste of my inferno?"

"Please don't tell me I just opened myself up to a barrage of awful metaphors."

"You chose the name..."

"Right, I don't think we're strangers anymore. Want to fuck?"

* * *

He wakes up and it's too fucking bright. She's taken over the covers and right now all he can see is piles of long, curly hair. It's a good thing, too, because he discovers that his hair's reverted to almost-white. Another good thing is his wand, still hidden in his coat on the floor. He finishes touching up on his disguise and wanders into the kitchen. 

She catches him with toast in his teeth, buttering another slice. "You know," she says, "You're too skinny. Have a donut." She opens the fridge and hands one to him. It has chocolate sprinkles on it.

"I think I love you," he says, gulping down the toast and grabbing the donut.

She laughs. "Next time, we're doing it at your place. Stock coffee."

* * *

He calls her the next afternoon and says, "Hey, it's Dante. Let's do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Like with the regular sex in exchange for flowers and candy." She says, "Yeah, okay."

* * *

They go out and see some stupid flick, whispering a running commentary, and he has fun. He feels alive for a while. Then he brings her back to the flat he lives in, because he hates the Manor and couldn't bring a Muggle there anyway, and feels even more alive. He wakes up to an empty bed and empty coffeepot, but she's left a note on the bedside table. 

_D - _

_I had fun. But I've got a meeting I'm already late for. Thanks for the coffee. _

Even though he understands, he feels unreasonably upset about the fact that he's male and should have waking-up-first privileges. Then he notices she's signed the note _Love, H _on the back and is unreasonably happy.

He wonders what it's like to have a job, but not enough to actually get one. If he ever runs out of money, which is more or less impossible with his lifestyle, he can always sell some lands in France. Or he could give tours of the Manor. He imagines leading a group of third-years. "And this was the sitting room of the late Lucius Malfoy. Yes, it's very scary. Don't touch anything or you may turn into a duck for a week. Standard security. I'm not kidding." He makes a sweeping gesture and hits his wrist against the pantry doorknob. Damn these fragile Malfoy bones, he thinks, while definitely-not-whimpering-and-clutching-the-afflicted-joint. He needs a drink. And a more permanent hair spell if she's going to keep spending the night, or vice versa, like this.

* * *

It's another day or two before she returns his calls. It's a good thing she does, because he's starting to feel like a stupid obsessive clingy fifth-year with her first boyfriend. "Jesus, Dante, don't you have a job or something?" Should he tell her he's independently wealthy? Will she start only dating him for his money? Will she get intimidated and shy away? 

Is he thinking too fucking much?

"Daaahn-taaay...you're taking too long. Please tell me it's nothing illegal."

"Nothing illegal."

"Embarrassing then? Fish-skin shoe manufacturer? Manager of a drag bar specializing in anime themes? Can't be a grocery store clerk, not with Armani in your closet."

"I'm um. Unemployed?"

There's silence on the other end for a moment. "Sure, whatever."

He's feeling a bit defensive now, angry that he had to half-lie for no reason at all. "What do you do for a living?"

She pauses and he can _hear_ her thinking. Whatever she says will be a lie. "I'm the department manager for my company. I mostly make sure reports are filed and sort through inefficient grunt-work."

He wants to believe her. But he doesn't.

They've finished talking and he's putting the phone back before he realizes that he forgot to ask her out.

He tells himself, so what if it's not working out? It's just a couple dates. One real date, if you don't count the first time. This sort of thing happens a lot. Not to him, though. He's not a particularly casual person.

But he does like her. So he picks up the phone again.

* * *

Two weeks later, and he likes her even more. She's pushy and too organized sometimes, but she's...nice to be around. He's gotten used to her. He's gotten used to coffee and waking up first in her place, and last in his place. He's even gotten used to finding random books that he knows _he_ didn't buy scattered throughout his apartment. 

Two weeks and three days after he picked her up in the bar - she insists _she_ picked _him_ up - it goes boom. Like crazy. It's a Saturday, and though he wakes up first he decides to go back to sleep. He wakes up again in a couple hours and she's holding his wand and staring at him like she's not sure whether to laugh or cry. The last time he saw that expression was when Millicent Bulstrode found out her parents were dead.

Then it hits him. She's holding his wand. How is she doing that? Muggles shouldn't be able to see it, let alone touch it.

When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be true. She's not a Muggle.

This makes things so much easier. No, wait. It makes things so much harder it's making his head hurt.

She's going to say something, but he cuts her off. "Look, obviously you've got your own reasons. Is this salvageable? Do we have to start over?"

He's studying the floor like he's never seen it before, and wonders why she's not answering. Then she touches his hair with the wandless hand and says, "Hey, Malfoy."

His head snaps up and his own pale hair falls into his eyes. He's brushing it away before he realizes she wouldn't call him by his last name unless she knew him.

He looks at her again, really looks at her, sees the fading glamour charms and watches Hermione Granger emerge on her face.

"Do I call you Draco, or what?" she says.


	2. Chapter 2

So...unexpected follow-up to teh one-shot. Yay.

* * *

She's adjusted surprisingly well to being Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Things are easier now she doesn't have to worry about the long-term effects of dating a Muggle. Not that she'd been particularly worried in the first place. Still...it's nice to know. 

They go out a lot. Well, she's pretty sure it's 'going out' because they do things for a few hours and have sex afterwards more often than not. They've raided the bookstore for the most obscure books they can find, most of which end up on Hermione's shelf. They've Apparated to Singapore and learned how to make satay. But except for that one time, they haven't been to the movies or dinner or whatever the fuck normal couples do.

And the thing is, she doesn't care. And neither does he. They're a lot alike, she thinks sometimes.

She mentions that to him.

"Yeah. Your friends would bloody flip hearing you say that, though."

He's never brought them up before, but she knows who he means. Hermione hasn't brought them up either.

She can avoid all this some more.

But she's Hermione Granger, and so she says, "Pity I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

He looks at her inquisitively and he's so beautiful with his hair falling into his eyes that she leans forward and kisses him.

"Mm. Not that I don't appreciate it, but I do believe you're avoiding this topic."

Which is absolutely ridiculous, right? Because that's just what she was not doing. So she practices some more non-avoidance and says, "No, I'm not."

"Okay," he says, and leans back.

* * *

A couple weeks later she thinks he's depressed. He's more clingy than usual and she's been finding more alcohol sitting around than usual. She doesn't know what to do exactly, so she cuts her hours at work a bit and practically lives with him. 

"You practically live here," he says.

"Yeah?

"So move in."

She doesn't have any objections, and even lets herself hope a bit that this isn't as casual as she's been telling herself it is.

* * *

She's pretty sure he's stopped being depressed. He's still clingy, though. One night, after he's pressuring her to blow off work the next day, she gets frustrated and asks him if he doesn't have anything better to do. 

"Not really." He shrugs. "Don't have a job. Don't have a social life."

She snaps, "Get a hobby."

He grins at her and she feels herself smile a bit in return. "You are my hobby."

And that's stupid and a little creepy from anyone else, but it makes her think _My god I really do love him_. Because she blows off work the next day and they play video games and she loses badly and it's worth it, it's so very worth it.

* * *

They don't do the wizarding world much. They're both sick of having to deal with the stupid arrogance of magic-users...and, of course, the omnipresent name of Potter. 

So what were the odds of running into Sir Potter himself while running a spur-of-the-moment fortune-telling business?

Hermione notices him first. "Shit! Draco, we gotta leave now."

He doesn't argue at the tone of her voice. They take off, pushing through the crowd, before they remember they can Apparate.

And then they find out they can't, as Harry Potter runs up, and of course she guesses he's put some sort of anti-apparation shit up.

"H'mione!"

And then he notices her boyfriend.

"Malfoy?"

"Full marks on identification, Potter," Draco drawls, and he's closed off now, his face perfectly blank except for a vague affected boredom.

"Malfoy!"

Harry seems unable to move on.

"What do you want, a cookie?" she snaps.

"Hermione...I know you weren't too happy with me, but Malfoy?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Harry looks like a puppy that's just been kicked. "You never used to swear when we were together."

She can't look at Draco, she knows what's going through his head, she knows him that well. Why can't Harry just die? "Look, Harry, this isn't about you and/or me. I left. Get over it. Thought you hooked up with Delacour."

"Who, Gabrielle? She's not - it was only the one time..."

"Holy sh - crap, Gabrielle? Harry, she's underage! I thought it was Fleur! How can you be so -"

And then she remembers he's not her responsibility. She doesn't have to be accountable for him. Half-unconsciously, she reaches for Draco, and likes just being able to touch him. It grounds her. Reminds her she's not that kid anymore.

"Hermione..."

"Go away, Harry."

He steps forward and grabs her arm, tighter than is comfortable. "But, I -"

"I believe the lady made a request, Potter."

She doesn't really know what happens then, and she doesn't really care.

Later, Draco says abruptly, "You were...with Potter?"

She can't see his face. "It was a mistake. It just sort of happened. And neither of us was ready for it, and neither of us actually wanted it. Messy ending, though, because Harry wanted to keep the childhood sweetheart vibe going for the media while exploring other avenues on the side. And I didn't give a dingo's kidney for the media, just that he wanted to cheat on me."

Now she can see his face, and it's still sort of broken, but she doesn't know why.

She realizes just how happy he's been lately. She hadn't noticed it before - after all, it was a gradual process - but even when she was worried that he was depressed he wasn't as...empty...as he'd been when they met in a bar months ago. Back then he was just running for no reason, not actually caring about anything beyond the next moment.

Of course, at the time she hadn't seen anything more than a pretty face and an unusual personality. The next morning, she'd made a reference to a 'next time' accidentally, but he hadn't objected.

And now...a small death is in his eyes and she just doesn't know why.

So she kisses him, touching him, trying to take the mysterious pain away.

* * *

He's withdrawn. 

He's never been like that before.

He's always taken all the attention she can give and demanded more.

He's always, always, been more than free with his own attentions.

But now...it's like he's afraid to be around her. He's generally in the study when she comes home, reading, and goes to bed late. She doesn't know what to do.

* * *

One night she stays up until four, and when he finally pads through the door she's waiting. 

"Draco."

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No."

There's absolute stillness for a moment.

"Draco...I don't like this."

He stiffens, and she can hear his breathing speed up lightly in the cold quiet of early morning. But he waits for her to continue.

She's not sure she can.

"I don't know what's wrong, but something is. I'm not stupid, I can see you've been unhappy. I don't know why, I don't know anything, but I just...want this to stop." She's babbling now. "I want to be a part of your life again. I...oh god, I don't know. I just want to help. Can I? I mean, will you let me? Can do anything anyway? Because I will if I can, you know that, you know I'd do anything for you -"

She stops short because no matter how close they've gotten she's still not quite sure it isn't a game to him. A hobby.

She's been very careful not to mess up, very careful to keep it light. She can't let him go. Now, though, she might have spooked him. Stupid. Better his in name only than not at all.

He's looking at her with some indefinable sadness in the shadows of his eyes. They're beautiful eyes. "Would you?"

She bites her lip, unsure. Not of the answer, but of where the answer will lead. She can't lie to him now, though.

"Yeah."

"Marry me."

Her world inverts, black-white-grey like his eyes, everything going bright-dark and she can hardly breathe, she can feel her heart pulse painfully and she'd always thought that that was a metaphor but it's not.

"What?"

"I thought so. Look, I know you...care for me. But Hermione? I don't know if you've noticed, but I love you. So this can't work. Because um. I love you. And I know I can't ever be the most important thing to you, like you are to me. And...I just wanted to let you know you can go back to Potter if you want. He really likes you. You can still...I don't know. Have your happy ending, or something. Don't worry about me."

This isn't the Draco she knows. Or it is, but so much more Draco than she's used to.

She should probably say something.

Now would be a good time.

He's just looking at her like he loves her but he's given up hope and her heart breaks so much for him.

She opens her mouth, and tries to say something. She's not quite sure what.

"I love you," comes out.

He gives her a politely incredulous look. She knows that closed-off expression, and hates it.

"Draco, I love you, I've loved you for ages. I never loved Harry, I thought you knew that. We were just...friends gone wrong. You and I are...something good. Something different. I'm yours as long as you'll have me, and if the offer's still open of course I'll marry you."

She's rather proud of herself for a moment; that speech could have won some sort of medal for Most Eloquent Heartfelt Sentiment. Then she can't think because he's somehow very close to her and his mouth is on hers and he's whispering, "I love you."

* * *

They don't invite Harry to the wedding. 


End file.
